The Weaver's Inheritance Read Online Free PDF Page A

deafness on several occasions when my mother-in-law directed me, quite unnecessarily, to assist her cousin. Instead, I ostentatiously attended to my own duties of chopping logs and topping up the water barrel.
    But at last the meal was ready, stewed mutton and dried peas for ourselves and salted porridge for the children, and there was no longer an excuse for avoiding Adela’s company. Happily, there were the details of our journey to be related, plus all the news of great events which I had garnered from Timothy Plummer in Tewkesbury. The report of the Duchess of Clarence’s untimely death had reached Bristol during my absence, but the rest of the story was naturally unknown and caused Margaret much excited speculation as to the eventual outcome, successfully taking her mind off more personal plans. Anything to do with the royal family always aroused her interest.
    There was much to ask, too, about Adela’s life in Hereford and the years of her marriage; there were childhood memories to be recalled and mulled over, old friends and acquaintances to be remembered. And when, finally, these topics were exhausted, it was time to clear the dishes and put the children to bed, amidst much giggling and laughter, at the foot of the goosefeather mattress. Then the curtain was drawn to divide the room in two, and Adela, my mother-in-law and I gathered around the fire to while away an hour or so until sleep should claim us also.
    ‘Well, and how did you both get on together during that long journey?’ Margaret demanded, smiling encouragingly at us.
    Adela, who had been about to say something, looked slightly bewildered, but she was sufficiently acute to work out the significance of the question for herself if I could not divert her thoughts.
    I said quickly, ‘I haven’t told you yet, Mother, of the strange incident which Adela and I witnessed this afternoon,’ and I proceeded to give her an account of the scene in Broad Street.
    My recital had an immediate effect upon Margaret. She gave a great gasp and clapped one hand to her mouth.
    ‘How could I have forgotten to tell you! But seeing Adela again after all these years drove everything else right out of my head. What do you think happened, Roger, while you were away? Only a day after you left, as a matter of fact. No, no! Don’t bother guessing! You’d never do so in a month of Sundays.’ She drew a deep breath and added impressively, ‘Clement Weaver has come back.’

Chapter Three
    I was certain that I had misheard her. I murmured, ‘I’m sorry, Mother, I didn’t quite catch what you said.’
    Margaret repeated, making each word distinct and separate, ‘Clement-Weaver-has-come-back. Or –’ and her head bobbed towards me conspiratorially – ‘someone who claims to be the Alderman’s son.’
    There was no misunderstanding her meaning this time, and besides, in spite of my total disbelief, it made sense of that scene which Adela and I had witnessed in Broad Street. Yet I could not accept so ridiculous a notion without protest.
    ‘How can he possibly have come back?’ I expostulated. ‘Clement Weaver’s been dead these past six years. Who should know that better than I, who was chiefly responsible for bringing his murderer to justice?’
    ‘But you never saw Clement’s body,’ Margaret objected. ‘You only presumed him to be among the victims of that evil man. You’ve told me the story too often for me to be mistaken.’
    Of all my whirling emotions at that particular moment, the one suddenly uppermost was resentment at my mother-in-law’s implied suggestion that I boasted about my achievements.
    ‘I’ve never repeated the story unless you asked to hear it!’ I disclaimed hotly, and saw by her look of surprise that she had intended no criticism.
    ‘I know you haven’t.’ She was hurt by my anger, and turned to her cousin. ‘Roger’s a very clever man,’ she went on earnestly, aware that somehow or other I felt myself demeaned, and anxious to put